


Holding On To You

by ufp13



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura spends some time in Bill's quarters the evening before she has to leave for New Caprica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding On To You

Meticulous, she took in the room, paying attention to every detail – the pen with which he had signed yet another report not even half an hour ago lay carelessly on the desk that was filled with piles of papers and books (she had always wondered how he managed to find exactly what he was looking for without searching for hours) – the way the books stood on the shelf, some in an orderly fashion, others had tumbled over during one attack or the other and he had never found the time to put them back up again, nonetheless each had its own place, though she had never understood his filing system. She noticed the slight angle of a picture he tried to fix time and again, always unsuccessful, the two glasses of ambrosia on the coffee table they had shared when he had been summoned to a surprise meeting with the new president, standing side-by-side just like they had first been forced by fate, later by choice since the worlds as they knew them had come to an end. Her gaze lingered on the uniform jacket hanging over the back of a chair.

Ever since she had gotten to know him better, she had rethought her opinion on men in uniform. Based on clichés and a few personal experiences, she respected the military but didn’t think entirely highly of it. Considering the military’s opinion of politicians, she hadn’t felt very bad about that. However, she could truthfully say that they both had taught each other there was truly not more than a grain of truth to those preconceptions. Their talking to each other without arguing, their sharing jokes, stories and drinks, their being comfortable with, around each other, their becoming friends was a miracle provided by the greatest catastrophe imaginable that had befallen their home worlds, a miracle she would be forever thankful for. Despite their arguments, differences of opinion, he had made life for her much more bearable – with his confident, calming presence, with his support – both professionally and personally – with his caring nature and – dare she say it – his love. In spite of her initial disapproval of his decision to save her the way he did, she was very happy to live and spend more time with him, learn more, discover little things not many people knew about him. She felt honoured he trusted her enough to share these parts of his life with her, that he had let her into the circle of people he considered his close family – albeit a slightly dysfunctional one. Being part of a family was something she hadn’t experienced in quite a while, and it felt good – no denying that.

Leaning back on the big leather couch she had fallen in love with the first time she had sat down on it, she let go of the details, took in the big picture and allowed the atmosphere of the entire room, the warmth it radiated to affect her. One could easily feel at home here. The bulkheads and the lack of windows aside, it wasn’t difficult to forget that one sat on a battlestar in deep space. A small, homey island in the giant mass of impersonal grey and steel.

She would miss this place, just like she would miss its inhabitant, although she hoped he would come and visit, visit her occasionally on the surface of New Caprica (as Baltar had propagandistically named the planet in reference to the people’s hopes), where she would live starting tomorrow which made this her last evening spent in space for an indefinite amount of time. Yes, she longed to feel soil under her feet again, the sunshine on her face, fresh air penetrating her nostrils, yet she couldn’t deny feeling a certain remorse at leaving the ship, ships behind – a remorse much stronger than she would have anticipated, but there was this nagging suspicion that she, they were making a big mistake. These mostly ugly spacecrafts had wormed their way into her heart, had become home, held memories – good and bad – she couldn’t have made elsewhere. However, it was the people serving on them she would miss even more than the places. Granted, some of them would eventually move down to the surface, but she doubted the one person who mattered most to her would, at least not anytime soon.

No more calls, no regular meetings, no relaxing hours spent in this, his home, shut away from the rest of the world – it would leave an emotional hole she would have a hard time filling. Speaking of the devil... the hatch was opened and in walked the quarter’s owner who she had been thinking about for the last – her gaze fell onto the clock – at least half an hour.

Upon entering, his expression was grim – the meeting, obviously, hadn’t gone well, she wondered what it was this time – however, a smile formed on his lips when he saw her on the couch, sitting back up. With a raised eyebrow, she offered him a chance to talk, to rant, to curse, but he only shook his head.

“Don’t wanna think about it now.”

Understanding, she nodded and patted the couch. Without pause, he sat down next to her and did something she deemed out of character – he took off his boots and threw them in the direction of the hatch where her shoes were standing. No misunderstanding it – he had enough, at least for the day.

He reached for the glass of ambrosia he had to abandon earlier before he leaned back just like she had done during his absence. Steadying the glass with one hand on a thigh, he put the other hand on her back, stroking her lightly with his thumb. The affectionate touch surprised her, but it was welcome.

Slowly, she sat her glass down on the coffee table, smiled at him while sliding nearer to him, leaning against his shoulder. Without any hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her, cuddled her even closer.

For some time, neither moved or said a word. They simply relished the other’s company, being together, all too aware that this was the last time they could enjoy it for a while; nobody knew when he would have the chance to come down.

Eventually, she was the first to move, swinging her legs onto the couch, relocating her head to his lap. He didn’t protest, actually remained silent altogether, just laid his hand on her head, caressing her tenderly, playing with her unruly locks, gently massaging her scalp. Humming contently, she returned the favour by stroking his thigh next to her head. Albeit tempted to close her eyes and simply bask in the peace his ministrations evoked within her, she forced herself to keep them open and continue her earlier visual survey. Her eyes lingered even more often than they had the first time, too lazy to move on to the next part of the room, the next object.

The silence dragged on; not an awkward silence, but one born of tranquillity. They shared a love for the written word, yet at the moment, words failed them. Fortunately, they weren’t needed as there was too much to say and nothing to be said at all. Wordless communication worked well for them, though. Usually, they relied on their eyes and facial expressions; right now, touch had to suffice. And it did.

“Will miss ya,” Bill broke the silence, in the end, still stroking her.

She couldn’t help but smile at his tender admission, though her eyes became watery at the same time. “Me, too,” she whispered, then silence ruled again for some time.

“Don’t be a stranger?” she whispered, sleepily.

“I promise,” he assured her in a similarly quiet voice as he leaned down to press his lips against her temple.

She took the glass he was still holding from his hand and put it on the table to let her hand replace it in his, wanting to get as much as she could out of those last hours of quality time they had for now. Nobody would be able to substitute his friendship, his advice, him.

Allowing his presence to calm her the last step into the land of dreams, she didn’t hear his whispered promise that nothing could keep him away from her for long, didn’t feel the kiss to her cheek before his hand’s movements became slower and slower until he, too, fell asleep on the couch, sacrificing a more comfortable sleeping position in his rack for a few more hours with her.

 

= End =


End file.
